


once i wanted to be the greatest

by hholocene



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Daenerys Targaryen-centric, F/M, POV Daenerys, ladies working together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-17 10:46:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18963703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hholocene/pseuds/hholocene
Summary: Dany's resurrection. Post season 8. Heavily Dany-centric. Jon/Dany in past references."The fire has always brought her clarity but now it stains her dreams. Burning bodies and a storm of ash. It gnaws at her, aching and aching until tears threaten to burst."





	1. a dragon reborn

**Author's Note:**

> Obligatory fix-it fic with resurrected Dany. This is, however, HEAVILY Dany-centric. And seriously, why isn't there more out there??
> 
> It is also not Jon/Dany endgame, and Dany is not going to be viewing their relationship with exclusively rose-tinted glasses because he LITERALLY killed her. There will be a whole spectrum of emotions.

She wakes to darkness and a terrifying chill. She gasps and her throat constricts. Pain hurdles in her chest and panic rises in her mind.

 

_Where is she? What is she?_

 

The auburn glow of flickering flames fill her vision. The fire is familiar and it soothes. She inches upwards, breath falling heavily.

 

Before her stands a timid girl, robbed in red. Her face awestruck.

 

“She lives,” she whispers. Dany stumbles, as her feet try to find the ground.

 

“Your grace, you must rest,” the girl tells her anxiously, rushing forward to hold her.

 

“Where am I?” Dany croaks out.

 

“You are at the Red Temple in Volantis, my Queen,” she tells her.

 

 _How did she end up there?_ Dany wonders. And then her eyes fall to her chest, and she sees the fatal scar that remains. She remembers the dagger, and brown eyes that watched her die. Killed by the man she loves.

 

“How am I still living?” Dany asks.

 

The girls eyes are alight.

 

“By the will of R’hllor, your grace. Your dragon brought us here and by the hand of R’hllor, the red priestess Kinvara brought you back.”

 

Dany listens to this, bewildered yet understanding. Nothing surprises her anymore.

 

“Drogon,” worry grips her, “Where is he?”

 

“He roams the skies above,” the girl assures and relief floods her. At least, her boy is safe.

 

“Your grace, you must rest. Let me bring the priestess. She can answer your questions.”

 

.

 

Kinvara speaks to her of the Lord’s will. Talks to her of a purpose still left unfulfilled.

 

“What purpose?” Dany shouts. She has no one and nothing left to give.

 

“The Lord will show you,” Kinvara assures.

 

“You are the blood of Old Valyria, Daenerys Stormborn. You carry the blood of the dragon, but you will not be the last dragon.”

 

Kinvara’s eyes linger and drift to her stomach. Disbelieving, Dany touches herself and feels the round swell that is there.

 

“It can’t be,” Dany says in terror. “I can’t have children, the witch cursed me.”

 

“You shouldn’t be alive either,” Kinvara points out. “There is powerful magic in this world, greater than we mere humans can comprehend. The Lord works in mysterious ways.”

 

“How can it be?” Dany shakes her head.

 

“Do not fret, Daenerys. Your children will live,” Kinvara tells her with a smile.

 

.

 

Her body grows and she dreams of a fair-haired boy and a raven-haired girl. She sees them laughing, eyes full of mirth. She sees them crying, blood and soot on their faces. Hope and fear, it grips her all at once.

 

She learns the girl, who had met her when she woke, is an orphan. Myra. She works as a servant for the priestess and tends to Dany as she recovers. She is barely a woman grown, still possessing a childlike innocence.

 

“You have done so much for us, your grace,” Myra coos.

 

“I am Queen no more,” Dany corrects. “Call me Daenerys.”

 

“Daenerys,” Myra tests how it sounds, slowly. She smiles softly, “You will always be the Queen in our hearts.”

 

Dany’s touched but the words don’t bring her joy. _You are my Queen,_ he had told her. _Now and always_ , he had promised. But words are wind and no one is above deceit.

 

She won’t make that mistake again.

 

.

 

In the months that follow, Dany has an abundance of time. She tends to her son, and occasionally ventures into the skies. But Kinvara warns it is not safe to stray further afar. The Raven’s eye is wary still.

 

She yearns for something to do but in the quiet of the Red Temple, all she has are her thoughts and memories.

 

At first, the anger is blistering. She wants _his_ head. Tyrion’s too. And Sansa, and Bran, and Sam, and everyone who dared to plot against her.

 

Her righteousness is deafening. Still defiant to the accusations of madness and cruelty that grip her mind. She had done what was necessary, no matter the cost.

 

But the nightmares grow each night. The sack of King’s Landing plagues her mind and the screams of children are ever louder.

 

The fire has always brought her clarity but now it stains her dreams. Burning bodies and a storm of ash. It gnaws at her, aching and aching until tears threaten to burst. How does she separate the good from the evil?

 

Myra talks to her of how the Breaker of Chains saved her life. She was a beggar, living on the streets of Volantis. She heard Kinvara speaking one day of the Mother of Dragons. Daenerys Targaryen was once a beggar queen, and now she was commanding armies and slaying the slave masters. She was fire made flesh, carrying out the will of the Lord. Protector of the people.

 

“You gave me hope,” Myra tells her. “So many of us, and you still do.”

 

Dany’s heart breaks. She thinks of who she was and confronts who she became.

 

“You honour me,” Dany says solemnly. “But I am not worthy. I killed so many people. Some who deserved it but, so many who did not.”

 

“It was the Lord’s will,” Myra tries to tell her.

 

“No, no,” Dany insists. “If there is a God out there, perhaps they guide us. They try to lead us to the right choices. But I have learnt this, we make our own choices in the end. I chose to slaughter a city, and I will have to live with that. I must atone for it the best that I can.”

 

Myra listens to her thoughtfully, contemplative of her words.

 

“We make our own destinies,” Dany tells the younger girl. “You are your own strength, my sweet child. Remember that.”

.

 

Kinvara saw visions in the flames and she had her dreams.

 

 _I am no ordinary woman, my dreams come true,_ she had once declared so surely.

 

And yet, she had been too afraid to believe it until the moment came.

 

She gives birth to two beautiful, healthy babies. Aemon and Rhaella, she names them.

 

She weeps in joy afterwards. She has a purpose once more. She would protect her babes with all the she had. Even as she fears her own power, she is resolute in bringing fire and blood to anyone that dares harm them.

 

“I told you they would live,” Kinvara tells her smugly.

 

“You did,” Dany is forced to concede. “I don’t know how, but I don’t think I care anymore.”

 

Kinvara smiles knowingly.

 

“The dragon must have three heads,” she tells Dany.

 

Dany thinks of the fourth, their father.

 

 _No_.

 

Jon Snow was no true dragon.

 

A kinslayer and an oathbreaker. More loyal to the wolves than he ever could to the dragons.

 

The wolves, and the lions, were the end of her, just as they were for her family before. But dragons are ferocious, and not so easily defeated.

 

House Targaryen will soar once more. Her children will wear the name proudly.

 

She will make sure of it.

  



	2. old friends

It is over a year later that they find her. A part of her thought she would never see anyone again, friend and foe alike. Perhaps, one distant day, the Starks would send their assassin sister to finish the job. 

 

She has wondered about all their faiths, yearned to be reunited with her Unsullied and Dothraki. But she cannot risk it and perhaps her armies have found peace. She does not wish any more bloodshed upon them.

 

She loves her children, Drogon included. She is alone no more but she cannot hide the joy that fills her, when Grey Worm and Yara Greyjoy walk through the temple doors.

 

Grey Worm’s eyes are wide in disbelief.

 

“Mhysa,” he breathes, voice heavy with emotion even as his face is impenetrable. 

 

Dany rushes forward, throws her arms around him.

 

“My friend,” Dany whispers, tears welling in her eyes. 

 

Her stoic commander returns her affection, holding her tighter. After a moment, his grip loosens, and she spies the woman behind him.

 

She isn’t sure what to think at first. Can she trust Yara? She must if Grey Worm is with her.

 

She takes a step towards her, her scrutiny evident. 

 

Yara notices, and in an effort to appease her, bows momentarily.

 

“Your grace,” she acknowledges.

 

Dany frowns, “I’m no longer a Queen.”

 

“You were once,” Yara points out. “And I take my vows seriously.”

 

She gives a knowing smirk and Dany can’t help but return it. She’s always liked her.

 

.

 

“How did you find me?” Dany asks over bread and wine. Yara sits across her, enjoying her cup. Grey Worm stands to one side, alert and ever defensive. Dany asks him to sits, he is not her subject any more. But Grey Worm denies her, finding more comfort in old habits.

 

“After your death, or apparent death, I heard murmurs that your dragon had fled east. Mereen, Pentos, Volantis, no one quite knew. My sailors heard gossip of the dragon queen born again,” Yara smiles, “I took my chances.”

 

“She found me in Naath,” Grey Worm supplies. “She told me you might live, so I came with her.”

 

At the mention of Naath, Dany feels a pang of sadness. Her dear Missandei -- gone far too soon. She is glad he found his way there, she must visit one day as well.

 

“If the two of you could find me, then it is only a matter of time before--” she doesn’t want to finish the thought. Her sweet, innocent children, she must protect them. “Who sits on the Iron Throne?”

 

“The Iron Throne is no more. But that’s by the by. Brandon Stark rules  _ Six  _ Kingdoms with Tyrion as his hand. Sansa Stark rules the North.”

 

“Bran?” Dany repeats in confusion. “Jon isn’t King?”

 

“No, he was banished to the Night’s Watch.”

 

Dany can hardly comprehend it. All this time she had assumed he must either be dead or ruling over the Seven Kingdoms. 

 

_ A banishment to the Night’s Watch, his beloved North, is hardly a banishment _ , she thinks.

 

“Bran Stark is hardly a man, let alone a King,” Dany thinks outloud.

 

“It’s good. He is a weak King -- he will be easily overthrown.”

 

“No,” Dany says, understanding what she is suggesting. “I don’t want to rule. I have no interest in conquering Westeros.”

 

“Daenerys, you said it yourself. It is only a matter of time till they find you. You will not be safe until you take the Throne.”

 

“No, there will be another way,” Daenerys insists.

 

“The Unsullied will protect their Queen,” Grey Worm vows.

 

“Daenerys, you cannot stand by. You must fight back,” Yara implores.

 

“I cannot, I will not--” Dany pauses. 

 

_ Does Yara know? _ She wonders.  _ Does she know the monster she became?  _

 

“You didn’t see me at the end. I was willing to do anything. Kill anyone. The power was so absolute, and in that moment,” Dany is breathless, mourning in the memory. “It had felt good. I cannot become that person again.”

 

.

 

She watches her twins sleep soundly that night, softly humming a Valyrian lullaby. 

 

She wants to give them a life of peace, but they will not be safe so long as her enemies still live.

 

She wants to save them from the terrors of war and the perils of politics, but how can she protect them without waging war once more?

 

“You seem troubled,” she hears Myra ask. She is standing at the doorway, a cup of honeyed milk in her hand. “I thought you could use this.”

 

Dany sighs, “Thank you.”

 

“Who were the people who came to see you?” Myra asks.

 

“Old friends.”   
  


“What do they want?”

 

“Power,” Dany muses sadly. “Everyone wants power. I worry that my sweet children will be caught in these games.”

 

“We will protect them,” Myra vows. Dany smiles, knowing how much Myra cares for her children.

 

“It’s not so simple,” Dany confides. “I fear power, Myra. I don’t know how to wield it anymore.”

 

“Then you will learn. We are all flawed, every single one of us. You told me once, we can only look in our hearts and make the right choices. And this time, you will be fighting out of love,” Myra tells her.

 

Dany cannot deny the truth in those words.

 

.

 

In the morning, she finds Yara.

 

“Tell me what you are after,” Dany asks plainly.

 

“You don’t seem to trust me very much,” Yara prompts.

 

“I hardly trust anyone any more. But I do respect you a great deal. I don’t believe you to be deceitful but neither are you foolish. You are plotting something, and I want to know what that is.”

 

“Very well,” Yara relents. “The Ironborn want independence, and so do the Dornish. There is a war coming and you are the most powerful ally anyone can have. I want to be on the winning side.”

 

“Yara, I told you--”

 

“What happened in King’s Landing was tragic,” Yara interrupts. “But I don’t need you to explain it to me. I can see the woman in front of me right now and she is not mad.”

 

Dany quirks an eyebrow. “You flatter me,” she says sardonically.

 

“But I have no interest in ruling Westeros. I truly meant that,” Dany continues. “However, you have been a loyal ally. I  _ will _ help you in whatever way I can.”

 

“How?” Yara questions.

 

“I have no armies right now,” Dany admits. “I need to find the Unsullied and Dothraki, see what loyalty I still have left. I need to see what is the state of Mereen, what alliances I can find in the cities I liberated.”

 

“You still have your dragon. No one can defeat a dragon.”

 

“No,” Dany is resolute. “I could take Drogon, and I could burn every army that stands in my way. But then what? Even if I took the throne for myself, no one has any love for me. They will keep plotting and the wars will keep on going, and people will keep dying. I’m tired of all the blood on my hands, so we must seek a better way.”

 

Yara scoffs, “What do you propose?”

 

“Westeros is united right now because they are tired of all the wars. Have patience. Bid your time and grow your armies. Rebuild the Iron Islands. A time will come soon when the Lords will grow restless -- favouring the North is not likely to sit well with anyone. Strike when they are at their weakest, and when that time comes, I will help you.”

 

“They are weak now,” Yara points out. 

 

“I know, but so are we.”

 

“Fine,” Yara accepts begrudgingly. She is not entirely happy but nevertheless accepts the situation nonetheless. 

 

“You know they will come for you eventually.”

 

“I know,” Dany acknowledges sadly. “How much do they know right now?”

 

“The rumours of you being alive are still few and far between,” Yara shrugs. “The small council is too busy rebuilding the city to pay attention to fanciful stories.”

 

“Good,” Dany states. After a moment’s hesitation, she adds, “I know this is not what you wanted. I’m sorry I failed you. I was not the Queen you, all of you, deserved.”

 

“Daenerys,” Yara is taken aback. “You didn’t fail me. You rid the world of Euron Greyjoy. If he still lived, I might not be standing here.”

 

A trickle of pride touches Dany. Perhaps she did some things right.

 

“Thank you for not betraying me,” Dany tells her sincerely. 

 

Yara is solemn, recognising the shadow of betrayal that hangs over Dany’s mind.

 

“It was wrong what they did to you.”

 

“We will right those wrongs,” Dany says impassively. 

 

Once, the prospect of revenge was a soothing balm to her agonies. The more time passes, the more her memories crystalise. She remembers painstaking loneliness. No one to love her, no one to help. And promises broken by the people she trusted the most.

 

It simply hurts,  _ too much _ , to think of the betrayals in her past.

 

.

 

“Mama!” her children squeal.

 

“Why don’t you hold her?” she tells Grey Worm, picking up Rhaella.

 

Grey Worm looks nervous, but she can sense the want in his eyes. 

 

“Go on,” Dany encourages softly.

 

Grey Worm holds her daughter tentatively, and she watches as her fierce former commander softens before her eyes.

 

Dany holds Aemon, pressing a kiss on his forehead.

 

“They are beautiful, aren’t they?” Dany says.

 

“The most beautiful babies I have ever seen,” Grey Worm tells her confidently.

 

Dany beams proudly at him.

 

“Is he their father?” Grey Worm asks quietly, voice grave and serious.

 

Dany looks down, focusing on her son. Rhaella has more of her father’s features but Aemon has his eyes.

 

“Yes,” Dany answers. “It doesn’t matter.”

 

“I should have protected you,” Grey Worm tells her. 

 

Dany looks at her oldest friend left. She sees the guilt he carries, the rage that still burns inside him.

 

“There is nothing more you could have done,” she tells him. “We must leave the past behind and look to the future. Will you help me once more, my friend?”

 

“Always,” Grey Worm pledges.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case not clear, Yara still doesn't know about Dany's children. For as much as she trusts her, I think Dany's very conscious of her children not getting embroiled into the 'game of thrones'. And I think Dany is someone who is not an expert at political manoeuvring (that's what the flop Tyrion was for!) but understands the ugly realities of politics.
> 
> I also hope my take on Grey Worm is passably in character. He's hard to get a handle on given the lack of screen time on the show.
> 
> Next chapter is going to take longer to update, but please bear with.

**Author's Note:**

> I've got a few chapters in mind but nothing extensive.


End file.
